Before she could move toward the house, Carrick surprised her by sweeping her into his arms. "Traditional," he explained, carrying her across the threshold. "For good luck." Inside, he set her gently on her feet, his hands remaining at her waist. The house felt different, somehow no longer his alone, but theirs together.
"Amelia," he began, his voice serious. "I want you to know that I don't, that is, I don't expect." She placed a finger gently against his lips, stopping his awkward words. "I know," she said softly. "But I am your wife now in name and in law.
I would be your wife in truth as well, if you wish it." Carrick's eyes darkened. "Are you certain? We've known each other only days." "Some people marry having never met at all," she reminded him.
"At least we've had time to talk to begin understanding each other." He brought a hand up to touch her cheek. I want this to be right for you. It already is, she assured him. His kiss was different this time, still gentle, but with an underlying passion that made Amelia's heart race.
When they finally separated, both were breathing more quickly. "I should check on the animals," Carrick said reluctantly. "Evening chores. I'll wait for you," Amelia promised. Later, in the darkness of what was now their shared bedroom, they came together as husband and wife.
Carrick was tender, patient, his hands gentle as they explored unknown territory. For Amelia, the experience was a revelation, not the pain and duty she'd been warned of by married friends, but a sweet discovery of connection and pleasure. Afterward, lying in Carrick's arms, Amelia felt a sense of peace she'd thought lost forever in the scandal that had driven her from Boston. "Happy," Carrick murmured against her hair. "Yes," she answered truthfully.
"Are you?" His arms tightened around her. "More than I expected to be again. The days following the wedding established a new rhythm to their life together. Carrick taught Amelia the daily operations of the ranch, how to feed the chickens, and collect eggs, tend the vegetable garden, churn butter from Bessie's milk.
She proved a quick study, approaching each task with determination and intelligence. In the evenings, they would sit on the porch or by the fire, sharing the events of their day. Sometimes they read aloud from Carrick's collection of books, poetry, history, even newspaper accounts from back east. Other times they simply talked, learning the contours of each other's lives and thoughts. At night, they discovered each other more fully, their physical relationship deepening as their comfort with one another grew.
Amelia found unexpected joy in the intimacy they shared. and Carrick seemed equally surprised by the depth of their connection. Two weeks after the wedding, a letter arrived from Boston, Amelia's younger sister responding to her last correspondence. Carrick found her on the porch after reading it, tears in her eyes. "Bad news?" he asked, settling beside her. "My sister's engagement has been announced," Amelia said, wiping away tears.
To the son of a prominent family, the wedding will be in spring. You're sad you won't be there, Carrick observed. Yes. She folded the letter carefully. But that's not why I'm crying.